Of Heroes and Villains
by Dragoon321
Summary: A collection of almost completely random one shots. Some are about heroes, some villains, some are dark others are happy. Read and review.
1. The Mind of the Twisted One

- A/N -

This is more or less going to be a gathering of completely random one shots. Most of them are going to be about my characters in City of Heroes/Villains so some of them may overlap at random intervals. Some of them will not be about my own characters and may even be written by completely different authors. If that is the case the authors name will be under the story title. If there is no mention of another author or editor then its just another one of my random mind blurts that I get while playing the game. Anyways enjoy the show and please review. If you see something in a certain chapter that interests you tell me in a review... please... pretty please. I don't even care if you review several times as long as it is all on different chapters, after all each chapter is its own story. Now on with the first of (hopefully) many.

- End Notes -

Of Heroes and Villains  
The Mind of the Twisted One

I am... a monster. My heart beats like yours, but it's beat does not move blood nor does it's study pulse keep me warm. My veins are filled with nothing but darkness. My eyes see, but I see the world with eyes unclouded by time. I see only the suffering of a mortal world, only its pain and anguish as death slowly claims it. I feel, but all I can feel is the cold beat of my own heart, and the shivering numbness of an empty shell that once had a soul.

My soul was lost to me long ago. You would think I would remember how, but I cannot... I cannot recall... it was so long ago... in the darkness... in the desolate void that is shadow... that is were I was trapped until the one I serve found me...

I serve the one who brought me back to this world. Another creature twisted by the darkness. He is a being like me, yet he is even older then I. A creature from another time... another place...

Draconum... Lord Draconum... The creature that pulled me from the void. He is my tormentor... he is my hope... he is my master. To be a slave is to be a creature loathed and hated even by the one you serve... that is always what I had thought at least. But my master... my master is kind to me... he sees me as nothing more then a tool, but in his eyes I am a shining blade of gold and silver that he can use to rend his enemies. I am something of value to him... something he sees as useful... to others I am nothing more then a horrifying, mindless monster.

What was I like before? I wonder that sometimes. Alone in the darkness of my own existence I have nothing but time to wonder. So many questions and nothing to awnser them. What was I before the shadow slithered into my veins? What was I before the power of darkness twisted my form and corrupted my heart? Was I... was I a man? A woman? These wings of mine, their dark leathery skin, their long narrow bones. Were they always there? Did my veins always run as cold as ice? Was my body always wreath in shadows? Was my skin always covered in flesh that reeks of death and decay? Or was I something more? Something less?

I know I am old. Ancient in by mortal standards I suppose. Was it a thousand years perhaps that I have roamed this small little world? No, longer... so much longer...

I saw your first ancestors, small furry creatures with warm blood that made them almost glow in the cold of this world. I watched them crawl from the dark places of the earth and change. I saw it all, just as I still do. It is your time now. The peek of your species, but you will fall just as others before you. Perhaps you will leave behind a monster as well. Another phantom from the forgotten past. A creature that should not be, but cannot die. Then I will not be alone at least...

But I am alone. None can understand my suffering. It is... impossible for your kind to understand. You cannot understand infinity. You cannot even grasp the simple concept of it. Nothing to you is eternal. Even worlds go cold. Even stars wink out. Even galaxies die...

But I... I watched a world change before my eyes, and all that I knew was lost to me. Someday when your kind too falls into destruction I will still remain. And the cycle will begin again. And I will watch it all again. Even when you vanish something will rise to replace you. Over and over and over again the cycle will go and I will never know final peace.

Perhaps... perhaps if the cycle stopped I could rest. Perhaps if this world died I could finally sleep. Yes, perhaps then I could finally close my sightless eyes and slumber undisturbed for eternity. But how to stop the cycle? Destroy... destroy life? Yes, to stop the cycle life must be removed. As long as it remains the cycle will always return. I can stop the cycle! I have power enough to release myself from this nightmare!

But no... I cannot... I know that... The cycle will never stop. Not until this world is dead and cold. Not until all creation lies in ruins. That is beyond me. I cannot free myself from this nightmare. But... Perhaps I can bring others the same suffering that has been cast onto me. Eternity...

Yes. Yes, that is what I will do. I will bring to your kind the same suffering that I have enduring for time beyond remembrance. I will bring your world crashing down around you! I will show you the true terror of darkness! The nightmare of immortality! I will burn and pillage this world until all that remains is rock and ash and lost phantoms never destined to rest! I will make you all join me in eternity!

I am... I am Clanin... Yes, that was my name... long ago. Mortals call me Crog the Twisted One now. My appearance inspired that name. I will not burden your fragile mind with a description. I have learned humans are easily shattered by such things, both physically and mentally...

I was a king. I remember now... but I am the forgotten. I am the unseen...

**No!!**

I refuse this exsistence! No longer will I walk in darkness alone! No longer will my foot steps be the only ones to echo down the corridor of eternity! I will drag as many of you as I can, kicking and screaming with me! I will plunge it into darkness and laugh as you scream and thrash, begging for a release that will never come! Begging for a mercy that does not exist!

I am Crog the Twisted! I am the forgotten king! I am your eternal damnation! I am the bringer of unending torment! The judge, jury, and executioner! I will be hated and feared and reviled...

But... I... I will no longer be alone... you will be with me... won't you? We can all be together... trapped together... in our misery...

Then maybe... maybe when I am no longer alone... maybe then I can finally be at peace. Is that wrong of me? To want to end my own suffering at the price of others?

I wonder what you would do. I have seen the evil of your kind. The nightmares you unleash on one another. You, who kill your kin for petty gain, who create weapons capable of destroying entire cities with the push of a button, who look at each other with loathing and distrust. What right do you have to judge me? Are you and all your kind any less of a monster then I? I wonder what you will do when I trap you with me in eternal suffering. In eternal darkness. Will you too seek to pull others into the shadow? Or will you simply seek freedom? Escape as I once tried to do... an escape that is impossible...

Tell me... what do you think... what do you think I was like before? Was I a man? Or was I always... was I always a monster...


	2. Silent Blades

Of Heroes and Villains  
Silent Blades

His prey was before him. The man that was marked for death. He was tall, had dusty blond hair, tanned skin, and a military uniform that marked him as one of the Council's archons. The man was human, but had obviously been subjected to the infamous Council super soldier program.

He was nearly eight feet tall and was all muscle. His body was scared from past injuries that could of ranged from knife cuts to grenades going off less then a foot from his body. The soldiers of the Council were notorious for the endurance and seeming inability to die. Like all soldiers the man was skilled with firearms of all kinds, but unlike most of his comrades he was also trained to be even more dangerous in melee combat. There were stories of Council archons tearing apart entire army squadrons single handedly. This made them feared, even in small numbers. It also made them dangerous for normal people to engage.

In other words this man was a killing machine. So was he though and he was far more effective at his job then this man was at his. Most younger assassins would of attempted to strike the moment their prey came into view, Master Noraa was not so foolish. He waited calmly in the shadows, his advanced stealth suit cloaking him from view as he followed his prey through the vast underground base.

Soldiers saluted as the man walked by them. Creatures known as Warwolves, werewolf like monsters that at one point in time had been humans, stood a little straighter and silenced their animalistic snarling as the man walked past. The super soldiers known as the Vampyre nodded their greetings to their commanding officer, a sign of respect that could take years to earn. Even the enigmatic Galaxy soldiers, crackling with their dark alien powers, bowed their heads slightly as the man approached them.

The whole time Noraa followed, silently and patiently, awaiting the perfect opportunity to present itself. He was a master of stealth combat, one of the few true assassins in the ranks of the Dark Army, the villain group controlled by the mighty Lord Draconum. The large majority of his lord's minions preferred outright brutality over the silence that was the art of assassination. He on the other hand gained pleasure from slipping past the advanced complicated defense systems of an enemies lair and striking at their very heart undetected until it was far to late.

Lord Draconum trusted him with only mission of utmost importance. When Master Noraa was called it was often because a job required a more delicate touch yet needed to be dealt with quickly and efficiently. Efficiency was one of the few things the assassin prided himself on. Go in, kill the target, and get out. Simple, clean, and impossible to link back with the rest of the Dark Army. His skill at his job was his only source of pleasure.

His target was talking to one of the Vampyre, archon himself by the looks of him. Noraa could not hear from his current position hidden in the shadows of the room so he risked exposure to get close enough to hear. His lord might wish to know what these two were speaking of.

Boldly he strode out directly into the center of the room, having complete faith in his cloaking suit to keep him hidden.

"... will tolerate no more mistakes." His target said.

The vampyre scowled displaying its razor sharp fangs in the process. "The _only _mistakes are _yours _for allowing the heroes to find our location! If _you _had done _your _job then I would not of had to terminate the experiment!"

"I can only do so much." The man replied calmly. "The amount of radiation given off by your project was impossible to completely cover."

"Your excuses begin to grate on my nerves!"

"And your constant finger pointing grates on mine." His target retorted with a trace of annoyance. "I did what I could, but if you had followed the proper procedures to contain the radiation in the first place we would not have to move the base and begin anew."

"Procedures?_Procedures_?! Tell me what _procedures _should you be following now to protect this base from the approaching heroes? You do your job and I will do mine!" The vampyre snapped.

"I _am _doing my job, which is to insure that you do yours..." The man began seemingly unphased by the other archon's rage.

"Your are not doing your job very well then are you? You seem intent to hinder me at every turn!"

His target sighed. They had apparently had this argument before. "Listen Alexander, I am sorry it hasn't gone as planned, but the security of this base was and is my first priority _not _your experiments. As you say I will do my job, even if it requires me to slow or halt yours."

The other archon bristled, but suddenly shifted his stance and began to look around as if he sensed Noraa's presence. It was a possibility, vampyre are the end result of the Council's super soldier program. They are stronger, faster, more intelligent, and have heightened senses that most normal creature could only dream of.

"What is it?" His target asked instantly taking the vampyre's unease as a sign of danger.

Noraa froze, even holding his breath and mentally making his suit slow his heart rate, lower his body temperature, and dampen his psychic signature. It seemed to work.

"Nothing... I just thought... No, it was nothing..." Archon Alexander muttered and turned his attention back to his fellow. "When will we need to be ready for the transfer?"

Relaxing, his target responded. "By tomorrow if possible, night fall the day after that at the very latest."

"Understood." The vampyre said with and nod and left.

At last his target was alone. Apparently thinking about something. Noraa moved quickly and quietly to stand behind the man. At last he made his move...

The near silent sliding of steel blades being removed from their sheaths. His target turning his head to see what the ever so slight noise was. His eyes widening as a man seemed to step literally out of thin air behind him. The sicking sound of metal slicing into flesh. A small, near silent scream. The thud of a body hitting the floor. The smell of fresh blood. Then nothing more.

Noraa stood over his fallen target looking at the wounds were his two blades had pierced the man's lungs. He had been a little sloppy, the left injury was nearly two millimeters from were he had been aiming. He would have to correct that as soon as he returned to base. Mistakes, even small ones, could be costly.

"I _knew _I sensed something!" A voice growled from above him.

Noraa jumped back and narrowly avoided getting smashed into the ground by the vampyre archon. It had apparently returned to the room by crawling silently across the ceiling. It was a tactic that would of caught a younger, less experience foe completely off guard, but he had seen it used many times before.

The vampyre took one look at his fallen comrade and turned practically spitting at the assassin. "I am going to enjoy killing you!"

"You are not my target." Noraa replayed.

The vampyre's eyes narrowed. "What was that?"

"You are irrelevant."

"_What_?!" It screamed in rage and lunged at him.

Noraa side stepped the monster with practice ease and it crashed into the ground several feet away. It jumped up and turned towards his foe. Noraa was backing away one step at a time and with every step he seemed to fade from view. Soon only a dim shimmer of the air remained.

"Today you are not my target, _but _should the need ever arise I will enjoy silencing you." Came the man's almost robotic voice.

Then their was nothing but an angry vampyre archon, his fallen comrade, and silence.

As he returned to his base he was greeted by his fellow members of the Dark Army. He recognized only a few of them as many were not worth committing to memory. The brutal Dark Nitsuj who dealt with some of the lesser missions that required power but no real skill, the robot V.I.L.L.I.A.N. 1000 who controlled the Wolf robots, and the creatures called Draclings were some of the only ones he really knew by name.

He made his report to his lord who once again praised his fine work. He picked up his pay, with bonus courtesy of his lord, for a job well done. Then he retired to his quarters to rest in peace.

Noraa knew someday he too would likely fall just as his target had today. In the end all things become still and silent. That is simply the way of the assassin. All things are one day silenced, even the silencer, but today was not his day. There was always tomorrow...


End file.
